


Broken Piece

by DarkenedI



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jack is a ball of mental issues that never get addressed.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 20:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkenedI/pseuds/DarkenedI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Response to this prompt on Kmeme http://masseffectkink.livejournal.com/8618.html?thread=41816490#t41816490</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She tore the paper up and flared her biotics. _Stupid stupid stupid. Why the fuck am I sitting here on this ship writing fucking poetry. I. Am. Not. A. Little. Girl!_ But some part of her was still. The girl that screamed on Pragia until her throat bled, She had left it a smoking ruin of nuclear fire. Then there was Shepard. _Fucking Shepard._ That man, infuriatingly consistent. Something about him made her spare Aresh a bullet. _He wasn't worth it, just a shell, just like Pragia, just like Teltin, it's gone. It's gone._ Her head pounded in time with that incessant thunking above her. _Knives, in a board. Knives and old fingers. Zaeed._ Why the hell Shepard trusted that old fuck she didn't know. _People always stab you in the back. That's why we don't get close. Just close enough to touch and not enough to hold... Stupid, Stupid little girl who wants you?! You're a broken piece, no one wants you for more than quick lay and a few credits._  
Thunk.  
Thunk.  
Thunk.  
She ran her hand across her scalp. When was the last time she had a lay... before Shepard, before the cyro. Elnora. She was a runaway, 17 and just got her implant. She was starving and selling herself in one of the wards on the Citadel. Jack was Jacqueline and credits were in her pocket. She decided why the hell not. Then this little fuck, she started crying right before the payoff. Blubbering something about a mother that would have hated her for what she doing. Jack had slapped her. Hard. It only made it worse. She grabbed her clothes and left after that, took the credits and drowned it at Dark Star. Now... Fucking Shepard, she thought back to that and felt... regret? No, _Stupid stupid girl, no one cares what you do unless you do it big. Crashing a space station into a moon. That was big._ The memory brought a small, smug smile. She had wondered idly if Shepard wanted to jump her, posed the question and he hadn't. What the fuck, she may not have been the Cheerleader but she wasn't ugly. Was she? _Stupid, stupid! Why would he want you? It'd ruin his perfect image. Perfect girl for the perfect boy. You'll never be perfect. You'll never be even worth the cost of the ink you wear._ She shook her head and gripped the stylus tightly, her forearm bunching in contest with the plasteel implement. In the end it won and she dropped it, clenching her fist. She walked to the mirror she had smuggled down to her hole. There was a point to it, she thought. Seeing who you were or some shit like that. She stripped, stepping out of her heavy pants and boots and studied herself. She had three new scars. One underneath her left breast, puncture wound from a collector knife. One on her right arm, she had been slow with her barrier on Horizon. _Stupid stupid girl, if that krogan hadn't been there you would be dead. You don't have friends, you have uses._ Lastly there was one on her foot, her first mission a piece of glass got lodged in her foot on some nameless planet. _Stupid, Stupid girl, so used to pain, you didn't even notice until those blood pack Vorcha nearly killed Shepard and Tali. You're useless, a cannon to point at some one. Cannons don't write, cannons don't think. You're a hazard, poison, toxic. You're useless unless there's something to kill. Even then you couldn't follow through. You let Aresh go. Stupid, Stupid girl. You're not worth it. You're not worth the recycled air you breath down here._ For a moment she saw it, whatever it was. A perfect girl, herself without tattoos, a full head of hair, just like Miranda. Then she smiled, a hateful, vicious thing. “FUCK YOU, BITCH!” she whirled and screamed, knifing a blast of energy through the air behind her. And there was nothing. _You see? No one cares, you're so built up, so scary. No one can ever get close. No one wants to either. Why would they? Broken piece, useless cannon. Little. Girl._ “I, am NOT a little girl!” she shouted at the wall.  
“Maybe, but the ship doesn't need a new hole regardless.” an accented drawl came from the left stairwell.  
“What the fuck do you want old man?” She spat, turning toward the voice.  
“I want you to calm the fuck down, girly. This boat doesn't need any more damage than it's already got. If you've got to act out, go fuck something, get drunk, sleep, I don't care.”  
“Go to hell, old-timer. You couldn't keep up with me when you were half your age.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest.  
“I've seen more death than your little finger. I saw the Blitz, I was near on Torfan, and I've fucked more woman than you'll dream of. So if we're gonna get in a pissing contest you'd better get dressed because we'll need a bottle.” She wouldn't be sleeping without a drink, that was for sure.  
“I could use a drink, I don't see why I need to get dressed though. Wait, how the fuck did you know I was naked?” She flared her biotics, the last thing she needed was for Zaeed to be an old pervert, getting off to her screaming at nothing.  
“Old trick from watching my own back too many times. Mirrors and corners are best friends.”  
“That's fucking stupid.” she jabbed back as she buckled the straps that held her decency.  
“If I had come down the stairs, you would have blasted my head off. I had that, I don't care for another go.” he said. She could swear he was smug.  
“You'd be a smear on the wall, pervert.”  
“You keep insinuating things and you won't get that drink.”  
“You don't have the key to Shepard's liquor cabinet.”  
“No, but I've got the key to my own, missy, and it's a lot older than you, so show some respect.” Jack snorted  
“I don't respect anything I can beat with just my mouth.” He laughed as she tromped up the stairs toward him. To her surprise he wasn't wearing his usual orange body armor.  
“Hey, whats with the duds? You got a date or something?”  
“I did, Karin had to take care of something else though, something about Tali's suit seals malfunctioning and needing a quarantine area. It's why we're not going to the lounge and why I'm not wearing armor.”  
“So what, you'd just ditch her and fuck me instead?”  
“Nope, heard you yammering on down here and Gabby got worried.”  
“Not the Krogan? Wouldn't he be a better choice to deal with the 'Psychotic Biotic'?”  
“We would have ended up with two holes instead of one. You can ask Shepard about being spaced, something tells me he might take offense though.” She snorted and crossed the hall to Zaeed's room, it was the trash compactor but that was covered by gun oil and a strange, acrid scent that reminded her of the rich trash that she stole from when she was twelve, perverts who wanted to paw at her. She killed the first one before the credits cleared. She learned to wait after that. Slimy men who wanted to be the 'first', to touch her. Her last 'client', that was the first time she had been caught. Local police couldn't hold her though and she was out of the prison in an hour. The first time she had a bounty on her head too. “Is getting in sawbones pants that appealing that you had to sex up your own quarters too? It's giving me a headache.”  
“You're giving me one too, Jackie. So quit your bellyaching or you can go back down to scream at your mirror.” She threw him a dirty look and plunked down on the bed.  
“So what's this great liquor cabinet you have stored away?” She peered around the room, looking for panels or switches besides the various weapons lockers.  
“Wouldn't you like to know.” he chuckled and flipped over his old gun. Jack had never had occasion to look at it. It didn't work, hell it barely stayed in one piece. Zaeed made a show of lovingly turning it about in his hands but Jack caught something flash and tensed her body, Zaeed had been throwing knives earlier and maybe he decided he wanted to collect her bounty: 10,989,300 credits the last time she checked. She waited for the other shoe to drop. _That's right, you're a fat load of credits for such a useless, little girl._ Jack ran her legs up her inner thigh, every blade right where she left it. If she was going to get caught it wasn't going to be without a fight.


	2. Chapter 2

Somewhere in between her gazing blankly at Zaeed and past him he produced a bottle of something dark red with a strange crystal suspended in the liquid. “Ever had real shard wine, Jackie?” asked Zaeed. The version of her name brought her back. “Come on old timer, I've had just about anything from anywhere and the only thing that gets me a little buzzed is Ryncol.”  
“Hah, that means you're drinking something wrong. This is real shard wine, not the piss they serve on omega with a couple of glass beads in it. Each bottle is blown with a broken piece clinking around inside it, and when it's filled, the bottle goes silent and reflects the light. Dangerous to drink though.”  
“Enough with the history lesson, Z. We gonna drink it or fuck it? Because it looks like you're just about ready to make love with that bottle.” She stuck her tongue out at the “Making love” expression. She hated it, sex was sex and love was stupid, only idiots confused the two.  
Zaeed sighed and put the bottle down and got glasses from a shelf inside one of the lockers. Glass clinked and the bottle pinged with what Jack assumed was the broken bit of glass inside it. Why the hell would you want that? You can't drink it if it's gonna shove glass down your throat. Zaeed handed her a glass, she saw his hands without gloves for the first time, they were scarred, more than a few fingers were bent out of shape from being broken. He had lived a life of pain. At least he chose it. I never got a choice. “So what brought you to Shepard's little campfire?”  
“History with the blitz and a shit ton of credits, Jackie. Skål.” He downed half the dark red liquid and sat on one of the crates scattered around the room.  
“The fuck do you keep calling me that?” Jack sputtered.  
“Because it fits you, You gonna just stare at that?” Zaeed motioned to the short glass in her hands. Screwing up her face _He could poison you, you know. Then where would you be._ She shoved away the voice, killing ground team members was forbidden before their idiotic suicide trip.

The wine was like a breeze. It caressed her throat and nipped at it, tugging slightly. It reminded her of the first time she experienced the out doors. After she blasted her way out of Teltin, she smiled, loose and predatory. Then it settled in her stomach and it shot bolts of pleasant heat to the tips of her fingers.  
“You know, Grey, this stuff isn't half bad.” Jack said, swirling the remainder in her glass. Zaeed took another sip.  
“So, Jackie. Why were you shouting at nothing?”  
“Oh no, not you too. First fucking Shepard makes me a weak piece of shit by coming down being all 'worried' about me. He didn't even want to get in my pants. Just, what the fuck. Now you too? Believe me I've heard everything you're about to say. I've seen so many prison therapists I could probably be one. So what the fuck are you going to say?”  
“You didn't answer the question.”  
“Fuck you.” she flipped him off and drank the rest of what was in her glass.  
“Some one still think you're a little girl?” Jack's eyes narrowed to slits.  
“What did you say?”  
“If I have to keep repeating myself this is gonna be either a very long or very short night, girlie.”  
She didn't know what prompted it. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was his mismatched eyes, maybe it was his broken hands and a lifetime of death. They were so very similar, but he was collected where she was scattered, pieces of her all over the galaxy.  
“There's this voice, you know. The one you talk to when no one else is there. Sounds fucking stupid.” she huffed and leaned back against the cool wall of the room. “I remember Teltin, but it's like looking through a fucked up window; I see when I was a little girl, then all the new shit I saw when I was there with Shepard. It doesn't make sense.”  
“What doesn't?”  
“Any of it. Why didn't I shoot that groveling fuck? He was weak, wasn't worth anything, but Shepard, fucking Shepard. He's got that thing, the thing makes you do stupid, weak shit.”  
“Yeah, yeah he does. He's a born leader.” Zaeed said, wiping his brow.  
“He took away your kill on Vido didn't he.” Jack stated.  
“Yes, yes he did. I'll hold that against him until Vido is dead in the ground. But I can put it away for now. Bullets for another day.” Zaeed said, his original eye stared at the knife board.  
“Put it away? Why don't you use it? I'd be fucking pissed if I lost out on that chance.” Zaeed laughed.  
“Oh believe me I was. I was also trapped under a burning girder in an exploding building. Puts things in perspective. He informed me of the price of my goal. Vido can't hide forever. Anger's a distraction. Especially at your squad leader. Got that beaten into me in the military. I was young, angry, wanted my piece of the world.”  
“So take it! Fuck the world, it did the same to me.” Jack gestured wildly around the room, almost dropping the glass.  
“You got a bad hand, Jackie, it's how you play it, though. Makes all the difference.” Zaeed said flatly.  
“Sounds like some stupid weak shit that Shepard would say.”  
“Yeah, yeah it does. But it's true.”  
“So what?”  
“So, Jackie, it means that you've got to learn when to put that anger to bed. Focus your energy on other things.”  
“Anger keeps me warm. I was made to fight, conditioned in that fucking lab. When I'm angry, I fight, when I fight, I feel good. That's it.”  
“Have you ever felt anything besides anger, fear, and hate, Jack?”  
“What if I have? Doesn't fucking matter, stupid kid stuff anyway.”  
“Again, you're not answering the question.”  
“Fuck you, old man, I need another drink.” Zaeed took her glass and filled it before handing it back. Jack grabbed it and took another swallow, her eyes glazing over as the effects swirled through her.  
“You know what, Zaeed?”  
“What, Jackie?”  
“I'm fucking done answering your questions. Go bug the Cheerleader or Kelly if you want a psyche eval.” She stood and stormed out, headache pounding full force behind her temples. She needed to kill something, at least it would make her feel right again.


	3. Chapter 3

Pain forced its way past the burning anger and her eyes felt glossy and wet. Crying? _Crying is for stupid little girls that hide under their desks. Crying is for weak little pussies before they bled out in the arena._ She forced the tears back and went to the shuttle bay. She was surprised to see Samara, the provocatively dressed and angled justicar was floating a meter off the ground, surrounded by a glowing purple ball.  
“Subject Zero.”  
“Hooker.”  
“I never was one; a mercenary yes. I never plied... What was it you humans called it? 'The oldest profession'.”  
“If the boot fits, and you're fitting a whole lot into that suit.”  
“Did you come down here for something other that failed flirtation?” the justicar posed, still facing away.  
“No... I don't know. I was talking to Zaeed... drinking a bit of whatever, something fancy. He said some stupid shit about losing anger.”  
“Why you keep it so close?”  
“It's the only friend that hasn't stabbed me in the back yet.”  
“It has though. Hasn't it. Caused to you be reckless, hurt things you cared about.”  
“Fuck you! What the hell do you know you blue bitch!” Her pent up rage reached a fever pitch and she felt the energy buzz from her neck down her left arm in a blazing trail of purple fire as she hurled it at the asari. It went wide and splattered against the parked shuttle bay, blackening the Cerberus symbol that adorned it. The matriarch unfolded herself in a blink of an eye, the swirling field still intact.  
“I am bound to Shepard by the Third Oath of Submission. His words are my words, His actions are my actions. But threaten me again, Subject Zero, and I will retaliate.” Jack met her ancient eyes with a burning fierceness, but something in them made her stare deeper. Behind the flare of anger there was something. She knew what pity looked like, Shepard, Jacob, Miranda, hell even the Turian had looked at her like a chained dog. This wasn't pity. This was understanding. The buzz left her arms, and she fell to her knees clutching her stomach, feeling like someone had punched her with an armored fist. She felt weak, tired, clumsy, hatred spilled out of her eyes in awful, wretching sobs. Arms surrounded her and she clung to them, trying to burrow into the comfort they offered. It smelled of Eezo and sweet wind. Samara slowly stroked her back, not saying a word. No comfort offered but physical. The tears ran dry, and Jack couldn't understand it, no knife had come. No bullet, no fist had blacked her out and locked her away. She looked up, her eyes still bleary and wet and managed to croak, “Why?”  
“Because I know what it's like to have the world taken away from you.”  
“What the hell does that mean.”  
“I can show you.”  
Jack's voice was shaky, but she wanted to know why. Why this paragon of justice cared about a blatant criminal. “Ok.”  
“Embrace Eternity.”

The buzzing she felt when she used her biotics was back, but softer, gentler.  
“Jack.”  
“Okay, what the fuck, who was that.”  
“It's alright, Jack. Focus on my voice.”  
“Samara?”  
“Yes.” Jack suddenly felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, staring into an endless void. An image surfaced of a Salarian doctor, she couldn't hear the clipped speech or anything besides a droning buzz until another image surfaced, it was a chart of some kind. She stared at it, all of one kind of box was checked off. An image screamed to life of Morinth, and of two other asari she couldn't place.  
“Who are they? That was the chick Shepard went after on omega. He didn't leave his cabin for a week after that.”  
“Morinth, and the other two asari are my daughters.”  
“I thought Justicars were on the no sex diet.”  
“They're the reason I became a Justicar.”  
“To protect them?”  
“To protect the galaxy from them.”  
“Why?”  
“They are Ardat-Yakshi.”  
“The fuck is that?” a bloody image of a hemorrhaged body flew to the surface, and another, a string of what must have been thousands of men, women, some no older than thirteen, and some that must have been asari matriarchs crossed in rapid succession.  
“The closest human description I have found is a vampire. They prey on people, hunting to feed their addiction. When they meld it is not gentle, it is not a meeting of minds, it is a taking, ripping pleasure and sustenance from the other body, leaving it a bloody shell.”  
“All of your daughters are like this?” Apprehension flooded through Jack, could they control it? Choose when and where they killed? Is this why she melded, to show me before she murdered me, stupid stupid girl.  
“No, Jack. It is a genetic disorder that is not hereditary. I am not an Ardat.”  
“You saw all that?”  
“Yes.”  
“Great”  
“I do not care about your protections. I only wanted to show you I understood. I am going to leave you now.”  
“Wait, please. Don't go.” but Samara had severed the meld gently and Jack opened her eyes to the shuttle bay.  
“When I found out that's who and what my daughters were I cursed the world, the gods, the universe as a whole. I kept that anger for a century, it fed me as I rolled across the worlds in a mercenary company. Then I came to a wall, a wall that even my anger could not surmount. I realized what I was I could never change. But what I did with it. I could change that. I became a full Justicar a century later, and began tracking Morinth. For the last 407 years, it has not been anger that sustains me. But love. Love for my daughters, though they are a monstrosity in the eyes of my people, they are still my daughters.”  
“Who could love a broken piece?”  
“Who can say,” Samara said, rubbing the convict's back gently.  
“I guess, thanks. For not trying to kill me.”  
“I understand your anger, Jack. Do not let it rule you. It can bring only pain.” The justicar got to her feet slowly, her hands slowly leaving Jack.  
“I will be in the observation room, if you wish to speak again.”

There wasn't an again. They hit the Omega Relay the next week, Jack's biotics ran hotter than she had ever dreamed, wolfing down the protein paste in between firefights. Her arm was sore, her head throbbed and what they had seen... For the first time in her 11 years of running she had been terrified of that reaper **thing**. She couldn't run, she could barely hide as wave after wave of those bug creature flew towards them. Then, in a burst of brilliant energy it was over. The Illusive dick was talking at Shepard, he wasn't listening and they blew that piece of shit station to hell.


	4. Chapter 4

No one had died, they made it, some how. But the bottom of the ship was so damaged that Jack couldn't get down into her hole. She hated sleeper pods, Miranda was sleeping in Shepard's room regularly, but she locked her door. _Selfish bitch._ She thought as she tromped to the elevator. She took it down to the cargo bay, Zaeed's door was open. She peeked inside and watched in awkward horror as a shirtless Zaeed tried to stitch a hanging flap of flesh back under his arm.  
“Need help, old timer?” Jack said smugly, stepping into the room  
“Well, I've got enough hurt for another life time so stop being smug and get over here.” He grumbled in pain and gave up, letting the needle hang, half threaded through his side. Jack quickly stepped over and began working, her small hands easily manipulating the needle, she absently admired Zaeed's shirtless torso, it was marred with countless puckered, jagged, scars. His body had been through what must have been three life times of war. _So this is what a life time soldier looks like._ His tattoos told the story that his scars punctuated, There was a blue sun's symbol crossed over with a jagged lightning bolt, a few prison symbols that she recognized, and a long number. Serial number she hazarded. She finished her work and slapped a medigel patch over the area, her hands lingering for a bit longer than was strictly necessary. Zaeed sighed with relief and put his arms down, reaching for his shirt, but Jack stopped him. “Unless you're planning on putting it on for me I don't plan on walking about shirtless.”  
“It's filthy, who knows what was on that collector ship.” It was flimsy, she didn't even know what made her say that. She'd slept in far dirtier places before.  
“Well unless you want to give me that belt over your tits, I'd need another and half my shit was blown out the window when one of the beams hit.”  
“You could just wait.”  
“Like you said, It's filthy, I'm filthy, and I need a shower. So do you by the looks of that patch on your shoulder and the way you're limping.”  
“Hey, fuck you old timer. I could still go ten more rounds if I needed to.”  
“Yeah, and so could I. But we both know we don't need to.”  
“I guess.” Jack huffed and turned to leave. Zaeed close behind. The elevator chimed the crew deck and they found themselves at the back of a very long line.

“God dammit, the one time I take a shower on this scrap heap and there's a fucking line.” Jack growled.  
“Hey, Its a very nice scrapheap, isn't it, EDI.” Chimed Joker, beaming like a kid on Christmas under his cap.  
“I am not sure I enjoy the Normandy being called a Scrap heap, Jeff.”  
“Just kidding, EDI. Now you two,” he dropped his voice to a low whisper “Shepard's offered his shower to the ground team until the plumbing gets fixed. Shouldn't be too long, but he's busy with Miranda for a 'mission debriefing' so you've got a bit of time.” the pilot grinned wider and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.  
“Ugh, that's exactly the image I need, thanks Joker.” She stepped back into the elevator and punched the captain's cabin. Looking at Zaeed apprehensively.

The elevator chimed and stopped, the short hallway to the blinking green door lock was dark, it hissed open, but she caught her weak ankle on the door frame and fell with a yelp.  
“Fuck! Dammit, shit! Ow!” she continued a string of profanity until she felt Zaeed's hand pull on her boot. “The fuck do you think you're doing, Z?”  
“Checking your ankle, Jackie. We've already got enough serious injuries we don't need a broken ankle.”  
“Fuck you, it's fine. I just need to stand on it for a little while.” she tried to climb to her feet and cried out in pain when she tried to walk towards the room.  
“Jack, listen to me.” Zaeed's voice changed, this wasn't an old man, it was a drill sergeant.   
“Your ankle is in a bad way, it's swollen and needs to be rested. Now hold still dammit.”  
“God dammit, fine. But you try anything weird I'm fucking kicking you in the face no matter how much it hurts.”  
“Well it means, princess, that you can't stand up enough to actually get clean.”  
“Aww you get to play nursemaid, isn't that sweet.”  
“Whatever, Jackie. You can lie here, or in the shower. Either way I'm taking one, I'm tired of being dusty.”  
“Fine, get me to the shower. You're not touching any of me though. Unless you want to fork over some of that bounty money Cerberus paid you to work for Shepard.”  
“Well I'd love to see the circus act you'll put on trying to get those off in a shower.”  
“Fuck you.”  
“Come on, there's time for that later.” he chuckled and put his arm around her, dragging her surprisingly gently off the floor and into his arms. She marveled at his apparent strength, he must have been pushing 60, she thought, _Alliance does good work, I guess_. He stepped into the shower and activated the light, pulling off his own boots and hard suit pants he stood in the grey body glove, torn and splotched with sweat, powerful lean muscles readily apparent to Jack, as was the slight bulge below his waistline. She was no stranger to putting her body on display, hell she'd been a stripper once or twice when she needed the money. But showing it to someone that knew her name. It was different, personal, unprotected.  
“Well don't just stand there, get these off me.” she undid the strap that preserved nothing at all, it just felt comfortable to have something over her chest, and her belt, trying to wiggle out of the cargo pants.  
“Calm down and hold still, you're gonna aggravate the ankle.” Zaeed warned and tugged off her other boot. Gingerly he tugged her pants past her buttocks and slide them gently over her wounded ankle, angling it so it was always raised some how. Suddenly Jack felt self conscious. Nobody ever treated her gently, her ankle was an annoyance, not a serious injury, it'd be gone in a couple of days with some medigel. The patch on Zaeed's side seemed to be doing well, no large amount of blood had seeped through her needle work. She felt the urge to run her fingers along Zaeed's muscular chest again, to trace the litany of war that he was. Zaeed was a strange man to her. Normally, if a guy got her naked, both of them knew what was coming next. A quick hard fuck and nothing else. Zaeed didn't seem interested in her body beyond her injury. _Am I not good enough even for him? The old warhorse? Hah chided the voice of course you're not. You're just a broken little girl, shivering naked on a floor. What could you ever give him? Shut up. I don't need to give him anything. You're right, he'd just take it and there's nothing you could do about it._ The voice laughed again high and hard. Laughed at her, she had the urge to curl in on herself, pulling her injured ankle lamely away from Zaeed, hiding herself.  
“Hey, Jackie. Calm down. I'll leave and you can get on with cleaning if that's what you want.”  
“Oh cut the bullshit, old man. Just fuck me and get it over with.” Zaeed looked taken aback and blinked.  
“Jack,” he said, with that same serious tone “I'm not here for a quick fuck on a shower floor. I'm here to wash the dirt of that damn station off both of us. You can lie here in a ball for Shepard to find if that's what you really want.”  
“Fuck you, warhorse.” Zaeed chuckled again  
“Like I said, Not on the shower floor.” Jack sat up and crossed her arms over her breasts, wanting to flare her biotics but the buzz wasn't there. The new implant was so hot it refused to respond. She didn't even have a knife, neither did he but his ankle wasn't a battered mess. Hot water suddenly sprayed over her face, and she sputtered against it.  
“Hey! A little warning would be nice.” she opened her eyes to Zaeed's ass. He had stepped out of the body glove after turning on the shower, and was running a wash cloth over his face, he tossed another one to Jack, then a bottle of body wash that must have been Miranda's, it was strawberry scented.  
“Ugh, even in here I can't get away from the fucking cheerleader.” Jack groaned and squirted some out onto the wet cloth.  
“Stop your complaining, smells better than anything else on this ship right now.” Zaeed said and continued running the cloth over his shoulders and chest. Jack began viciously scrubbing the parts of her body that she could reach, smiling when the film of dust and grime caked onto her skin began melting under the spray, she reached down towards her ankle, trying to move it and whimpered in pain.  
“Jack. Keep it still, I'll get it when I'm done.” Zaeed said, firmly. Jack resigned herself to sitting comfortably under the spray, letting the water splash over her. Although she tried not to she found her eyes continually drawn to the other person in the room. The play of his muscles under his skin, the damp gray of his cropped hair. The old man was attractive, in an odd way, like a weathered safe house. Some place to hide and be still for a while. He turned around and locked eyes with her. Jack could feel her face heat up, _Its just the steam_. She told herself as her eyes raked over Zaeed's body. She couldn't ignore the generous package hanging between his legs and licked her lips before she could stop herself. Zaeed paced forward slowly, water pooling and dripping, he knelt down and ran the wash cloth gently over her injured leg, still afraid of the known bounty hunter who was cradling her ankle Jack tried to pull in on herself, groaning in pain when Zaeed stopped her wounded limb. “Jack,” Zaeed said softly, “Just once, I need you to trust me.” Those nine words cracked something inside Jack, she let herself fall back against the floor.  
“Just, get it over with.” Her breath hitched slightly as Zaeed ran the cloth slowly and tenderly up and down her calf, swiping over the swollen ankle. She found herself sighing gently, enjoying the spray.  
“How bad is it really?” She asked, worried that Zaeed had over estimated her injury.  
“It's as bad as it looks, see?” he pointed at the swollen ball of her ankle bone where it met her leg. “You'll need to stay off it for a while, a day at the very least. I seriously doubt anyone will ask you to help if you can't walk. We're short on medigel so superficial injuries are last on the list. Just needs time.”  
“How'd you get that patch then?” She motioned to the white bandage on Zaeed's side.  
“Oh, well, I managed to weasel it out of our good doctor before she got too busy.” he said smugly.   
“So you stole it.”  
“Only for the best purposes.”  
“Whatever, you done washing me, pervert? Or do you wanna stare some more.”  
“Yeah I'm done, Jackie, lemme go find something to wear, I'm a little shorter than Shepard but it should fit alright until I can get a new set of clothes.  
“What about me?” Jack said, suddenly aware of her own nudity.  
“I'll wrap you in a towel and see if Shepard kept any trophies.”  
“Eugh! No way, old man. Just give me the towel, I'll figure something out.”  
“I found something to wrap your foot up until we can get some medigel on it.” Zaeed called from inside the room. He returned to Jack propped up against the bathroom wall with a towel over herself, her ankle propped up on her opposite knee.  
“Alright, I've got a shirt for you to put on and something to wrap your ankle with” he produced a few strips of orange and a Cerberus shirt that looked three sizes too big for Jack.   
“Fuck that shit, I am not putting that on,” She hissed, glaring at the yellow symbol on the shoulder. “and did you tear the shit out of my pants? The fuck am I gonna wear now?”  
“Would you stop bitching and work with me?” Zaeed grumbled.  
Jack huffed and leaned back on the shower wall. “Fine, whatever. I am not walking around the cargo deck in a Cerberus nightie though. Miranda can do that shit all she wants.”  
“By all means, walk around in the buff, I'm sure Donnelly will get a kick out of it. Then a kick from Gabby.” he laughed and quickly wrapped her ankle enough to keep it straight and still, even if she couldn't walk on it.  
“Thanks, Z”  
“You're welcome, Jackie. Now lets get out of her before the good captain finishes with his mistress.” Zaeed helped Jack up as she wrapped the towel around herself and snatched her straps off the shower floor, replacing them across her breasts. Zaeed was dressed in an ill fitting Cerberus shirt and pants that were too long or too tight in various places, making him look like an awkward teenager rather than a powerful soldier. He picked Jack up and placed his orange hard suit leggings on her stomach and the rest of their ruined clothing in the trash chute. “If we want 'em back we can just go down to my place.” he chuckled and he padded to the elevator.


End file.
